


A Pair Of Brass Cufflinks

by Juul



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:39:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5721388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juul/pseuds/Juul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary: </b> “Remus receives presents from a secret admirer and never imagines it could be his longtime crush…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pair Of Brass Cufflinks

**Author's Note:**

> **Pairing(s):** Remus/Sirius  
>  **Word Count:** 3.900 words  
>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
>  _“There’s nothing like staying at home for real comfort.”_ is a Jane Austen quote.  
>  **Notes:** This fic was written for the HP mini fest 2015, so thanks go out to the mods!  
>  **Beta:** blue-eyed1989 over on LJ, thanks so much darling!

On December 1st, after Transfigurations, Remus finds a small package on his pillow. It’s a rectangular box wrapped with a golden bow. Curious and cautious (living with the Marauders, he has grown to accept that anything could explode at anytime into a little cloud of Bubotuber pus), he picks up the box and holds it away from his face, pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. Tentatively, he pulls at the bow. In the box is a beautiful brass pair of cufflinks, one in the shape of a moon and the other shaped like a star. They’re resting on a piece of parchment that has been meticulously folded to fit inside the box. Satisfied that he is not in immediate danger of getting hit with pus, Remus unfolds the note. It reads:

_Beautiful boy with your sad eyes and your big books and your knitted scarf, I have noticed you. You have enchanted me with your wit and your shiny hair and your preference for porridge. Merry Christmas,_

_Your secret Santa_

Remus is baffled. Has he missed some new initiative for the students to develop closer friendships and spread the yuletide spirit? Has he fallen victim to another Marauder-initiated prank? Or, most inconceivable of all, does he have a secret admirer? This calls for an emergency council. He sprints down the spiral steps into the Common Room and spots Sirius and James pelting each other with Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans and Peter unfortunately situated between the two of them protecting his face from being hit with a snail-flavoured bean with his Charms textbook.

“Oi, Sirius, mate!”

Sirius gives him a scathing look, turns back to James and aims another Bean exactly at the wire holding his spectacles together. Remus remembers the ridiculous new Guidelines For Marauderly Conduct and says, in his best posh voice:

“Gentlemen! I call a meeting of the council.”

Sirius looks incredibly pleased to see his newest fancy in practice, and rises. James walks with him and, after gingerly lowering his textbook, Peter follows.

Up in the tower, Remus, ever the eloquent orator, takes a moment to make sure he has his friends’s attention. Then, he says:

“Are we doing Secret Santa this year?”

James gives him a genuinely puzzled look, or at least a very convincing impression of one.

“Nah, mate,” he looks questioningly at Sirius who looks equally quizzical. “I don’t think we are. Why? ‘D you get something?”

Remus is still suspicious. “You’re sure I’m not being pranked?”

James mutters: “Marauders’ Honour,” and makes the agreed upon rude gesture. Remus is satisfied. If James hasn’t pranked him and doesn’t know of anybody else’s (Sirius’) pranking, then it can’t be a prank.

“Somebody left a present on my bed,” he explains. “And a note to go with it, but there’s no name.”

“A present?” Peter perks up. “What was it?”

“A pair of cufflinks.” Remus shows him. “Rather nice, actually. They’re brass, not silver, that’s why I thought it’d be one of you.”

Sirius nods. “They’re nice,” he says. “What’s the note say?”

Remus reads out the note and looks around the room at his friends. As usual, James is the first to speak.

“Merlin, Moony. It seems like somebody is carrying a torch for you!” He sits down on his bed and gives each of them a calculating look. “It can’t have been anyone outside of Gryffindor, they can’t have gotten in here,” he continues, “unless either one of you is an accomplice?”

Sirius and Peter both shake their heads.

James seems satisfied. “So, a Gryffindor, then. Has anyone been looking longingly at you, Moony?”

Remus can’t tell whether his friend is taking the piss. He hesitates. No, no one has been giving him looks except for Sirius, but that’s nothing new. Every once in a while, Sirius’s eyes find his, no matter where they are at the time, and sparkle mischievously. Sometimes it happens when a class is particularly boring, or a dish is particularly delicious, or a fellow student is being particularly obnoxious. Other times it seems to happen for no reason. It’s nothing new, though, so he shakes his head.

“Nope. Haven’t noticed a thing.”

“Well,” Sirius asks. “Is there anyone you fancy? Anyone you’ve been getting all warm and fuzzy over lately?”

Remus stares at his duvet and picks at a loose thread as he speaks. “No.” A beat. “No one in particular.” It’s a blatant lie, has been for a year and a half now, but he can’t very well tell Sirius that. Especially not with their friends around. Sirius looks at him for a bit after Peter and James have already moved on to a game of Gobstones, and Remus gets the uncomfortable feeling he isn’t fooled. It doesn’t matter much, though. Nothing short of Veritaserum will make Remus confess how head-over-heels in love he is with his best friend.

*********************************************************

The next day, after class, there is an extra large bar of Honeyduke’s Extra Creamy on his pillow. No note. The day after that, it’s a gorgeous bookmark made of red leather, with the Hogwarts and Gryffindor crests embroidered on it. No note. On the third day, after unwrapping a gorgeous pair of mittens that match his scarf, charmed to repel cold and keep water from seeping through, he decides it’s time to broaden his investigation.

He finds Lily in the Muggle fiction section of the library, leafing through a copy of Wuthering Heights. He patiently waits for her to finish her page and look up before he speaks. Outside of the Marauders, Lily is his closest friend, and he doesn’t even have to tell her that what he’s about to say is both important and secret.

“I suspect I am being pranked.” he says.

She raises an eyebrow. A roommate of Sirius Black and James Potter being pranked is hardly news. When he doesn’t explain further, she prompts,

“How?”

“Someone is leaving presents on my bed every day. A secret Santa type thing. Like a secret admirer.”

A huge grin spreads all over her face.

“And how, exactly, is that a prank?”

Remus hesitates. “Well,” he ventures. “It has to be. Who on earth would have a crush on plain old me?”

Lily sighs. “I would,” she says softly. When Remus’s eyes go big as saucers, she adds, “I did have a bit of a crush on you, once. When we were in first year. You’re nice looking, Remus,” he snorts, but she reiterates, “really, you are. And you’re terribly clever. I used to think you’d never want to be friends with me. And now, here we are!” She smiles.

Remus blinks a couple of times. “Wait a minute,” he manages. “You don’t have a crush on me anymore, do you?”

“Well,” she smiles some more. “I still think you’re terribly cute, but no. It was more of an admiration at a distance, you know? I’m just trying to tell you that you’re easy to like. I mean, as more than a friend.”

“Okay,” Remus says. That doesn’t have to mean anything. Lily is always incredibly kind. He sinks down onto the floor with his back against the bookcase, looking up at Lily in her armchair. “So you don’t think it’s a prank?”

“No.” Her voice is a little exasperated. “I think someone is courting you.”

It boggles the mind. “Who, then?”

Lily grins mischievously. “I have some idea,” she says. “Let’s go find out.”

**************************************************

Remus thinks it’s a wasted effort to go talk to James, but Lily is hell-bent on it, even after he explains he already spoke to all of his roommates. They walk at a brisk pace up to the Common Room and Lily makes a pleased sound when she finds James sitting alone, a Golden Snitch Magazine on his lap.

“Potter.”

Her voice startles him and he runs a hand through the disastrous nest of hair on his head.

“Yes?” It comes out about an octave higher than usual.

Lily does not acknowledge his awkwardness in the slightest. “As you well know, someone has been sending Remus Christmas presents. Who is it?”

James looks scared. “How the bloody hell should I know?” He looks at Remus. “Sorry, Moony, but it isn’t me.”

“I didn’t think it was,” Remus says drily.

Lily is annoyed now. “No one thinks it’s you sending the presents, Potter.” James looks vaguely relieved yet also still alarmed. “The point is you know who it is.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

James sighs. “I don’t, Lily, I swear.”

The use of her first name obviously surprises Lily a little, but she tries to act unfazed. “It’s your bedroom, too. Has anyone been in it other than the four of you?”

Remus and James both shake their heads.

“Have you run into anyone on the stairs?”

Again, they shake “no.”

Suddenly, Lily’s eyes grow big like she’s solved the mystery. 

“Oh,” she breathes. “Never mind.”

*************************************

Lily absolutely refuses to tell Remus, or anyone else for that matter, what conclusion she’s arrived at. She studiously looks at her homework for the rest of the afternoon, and eventually Remus leaves her be. Some friend she is.

When he goes upstairs to vent his frustration into his pillow, Sirius is there. He’s sitting cross-legged on his bed, an empty bowl in front of him, and he’s waving his wand at a banana, two tangerines, a pineapple and a number of raspberries floating around his head in little figure eights. His concentration is ironclad, because he doesn’t spare Remus a single glance as the latter faceplants on his own bed and lets out an exaggerated groan.

“Wotcher, Moony?” he says, still gazing intently at the flying fruit, sometimes going cross-eyed in an attempt to keep it within his field of vision.

His voice still muffled by the pillow, Remus explains.

“I’ve been getting these presents, right?”

Sirius is still engrossed in the fruit salad dancing around the room. He doesn’t say anything.

“And I don’t know who they’re from.”

A couple of raspberries land elegantly in the bowl. “So?” Sirius looks at him, then quickly back at the fruit. “Aren’t they nice gifts?”

“That’s the thing,” says Remus. “They’re all absolutely lovely. I’m just dying to find out who’s sending them.”

Sirius shrugs. “I think the mystery is part of the fun, Moony.”

Remus grudgingly has to acknowledge that he might be right, and tries to ignore all the questions floating around in his brain. When Sirius lands all of the fruit neatly in the bowl, he lets out a relieved sigh. Nothing has been splattered with sticky fruit residue.

Sirius lies on his bed and looks over at Remus with that peculiar sparkle in his eyes, the one that makes Remus’ stomach do a little flip and makes his palms go sweaty.

“What are you getting me for Christmas, Moony?” He’s got a cocky grin plastered on, like he’s already gloating over some amazing present he hasn’t yet received.

Remus blanches. “It’s the 4th of December, Padfoot, I don’t know yet. What’s on your wish list?”

Sirius blushes a little, rolls over onto his back and says, “There isn’t anything I want, really.”

Remus doesn’t believe him for a second. If there’s one thing he knows about Sirius Black, it’s that he’s always after _something._

*****************************************

The presents keep coming, appearing always at the same time (after the last class of the day), and at the same exact spot (the middle of Remus’ pillow). A really comfy pair of pajamas in a gorgeous dark blue colour, patterned with clusters of stars that really sparkle when you tell them to. The next day, a matching bathrobe made out of a thick, warm and incredibly soft fabric. A set of ingredients for never-cooling hot chocolate, and a mug that reads “There’s nothing like staying at home for real comfort.” There was another note folded up inside the mug. Remus didn’t recognise the handwriting. It was uncommonly neat and tidy, and he didn’t know anybody neat and tidy.

_Have a hot chocolate with your mates. Enjoy._

Curious as to what would happen, Remus called his friends together that evening. James was the only one who showed.

“Where’s the others?” Remus asked him.

James shrugged. “Sirius is in detention, no idea where Peter is. My best guess is snogging some bird behind the greenhouse.”

Remus stifled a laugh. The chances of Wormtail snogging anyone were slim, and James knew it. “What’s Padfoot in detention for?”

This made James laugh. “He Wingardium Leviosa’d a bunch of Puffskeins during Care Of Magical Creatures. We spent most of the class getting them back to their cages. I think he may have stole a couple, too.”

Remus laughed, too. Then he poured James a cup of never-cooling cocoa and gazed intently at his fingernails for a while.

“Why’d you call the council?” James was a good mate, but not a very patient one.

“The silliest of reasons, really. You know how I’ve been getting all these gifts?”

James nodded. 

“Well, today’s gift came with a note to treat my mates to hot chocolate.”

James smiled a little. “Thanks, Moony. This tastes really good.”

“Why would someone ask me to do that, though?”

James arched an eyebrow. “Because they want you to gossip about them, obviously!”

Remus didn’t think this was obvious at all.

“It’s like one of those tea parties my mum hosts,” James went on, “and all the guests ever do is talk about other people’s love lives.”

“So we’re supposed to talk about other people’s love lives now?” Remus was being deliberately obtuse.

“No, you absolute tosser. We’re going to talk about _yours.”_

“I don’t have a love life.”

James gave a long-suffering sigh. “You may not be in a relationship, but you’re a sixteen-year-old boy just like the rest of us, even if you act like Dumbledore’s older brother half the time. Tell me about your _feelings_.”

“Now, Prongs, that isn’t very manly of you, now is it?”

“You know what I mean, Remus.”

Still, Remus deflected. “What about _your_ feelings?”

“That’s easy,” James said, and he looked at Remus straight on. “I’m in love with Lily Evans.”

Remus gaped at him. 

‘Close your mouth, Moony, Doxys’ll get in,” James joked. But he was blushing a little.

Remus wasn't surprised, per se, anyone who’s spent three minutes in the Gryffindor Common Room over the last couple of years can see that James is in love with Lily. But he’s never told Remus before, not in so many words.

Now Remus felt obligated to share in return, which was undoubtedly what James was aiming at.

“Well,” he started cautiously, “I’m gay.”

Not so much as a raised eyebrow from James. Just, evenly, “So we’re hoping the presents are from a bloke?”

Remus nodded, grateful for the lack of fuss.

“Any bloke in particular?” James prodded.

Remus considered lying, but he’s quiet for too long because James nodded and murmured, “I’ll take that as a yes, then. Who?”

Remus couldn’t answer that. He opened his mouth, closed it again, opened it again, then closed it. He was impressed with Prongs’ restraint. He hasn’t been mocked once, and they’re having a real, honest-to-Merlin heart to heart, here. 

After another few beats of silence, James said, “I’m going to start guessing, now.”

Remus didn’t say anything and looked down at the half-empty cup op cocoa in his clasped hands.

“Well,” started James, “it’s not Peter.” he looked at Remus uncertainly and despite his nervousness Remus laughed.

“No,” he said. “It isn’t Peter.”

“You know what?” James said. “If I was into guys I’d probably be into Rufus.”

Remus made a face.

James shook his head. “Not Rufus, then. Frank?”

“Nope.”

Suddenly, James’ eyes went big as saucers. “Bloody hell, Moony,” he said, “it isn’t _me,_ is it?”

“Of course not, you cocky git.” Remus gave him a scathing look.

“Hey!” exclaimed James. “It wouldn’t be the daftest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m a good-looking lad, that’s for certain. Clever, too.”

“And so very modest,” said Remus drily.

Neither of them said anything for a while.

“It’s Padfoot, right?”

Remus couldn’t look up, all of a sudden, his throat tight. “Don’t tell him,” he pleaded.

“Nah,” said James soothingly, and he reached up to ruffle Remus’ hair, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Remus heaved a relieved sigh. The truth was out there, now, and it was both a terrible feeling and a good one.

****************************

The presents keep coming: a beautiful picture of Hogwarts Castle covered in snow, owls flying around the towers, in a mahogany frame. A bottle of cologne that smells delicious and vaguely familiar. A bag of everlasting candy canes, although why anyone would need more than one of those, Remus doesn’t know.

The day before the Yule Ball and only a few days before everyone is leaving for the holidays, there is a particularly special gift: a stylish tux. There’s a note in the jacket pocket.

_Meet me tomorrow night after dinner at the bottom of the stairs to the Great Hall. I’ll be wearing a burgundy suit, and I’d love to take you on a date to the dance._

The next night, Remus is nervous. It’s no wonder, really, his expectations for the mystery date have become way too high to ever be lived up to. In his agitated state, he’s more than a little annoyed to find his fellow Marauders waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. Of course, they don’t know this is where he’s supposed to meet his mystery boy. There’s no one but Sirius, James and Peter standing there, though. And James and Peter are making a hasty retreat. Sirius looks ridiculously handsome, as always, in a burgundy suit with the top button of his shirt open to reveal the hard edge of his collarbone. Remus blinks, hard, and stumbles down the last step. Sirius is wearing a burgundy suit. A burgundy suit. He’s got his usual shit-eating grin plastered on his face, but Remus can make out a hint of insecurity hiding below it. He regains his footing and asks,

“Is it you?”

In reply, Sirius moves in and kisses him. Remus is still standing on the bottom step of the stairs so the angle is funny, but he immediately lets his arms fall around Sirius’s neck and pulls him closer by his hair. Kissing Sirius is every bit as sweet as he’d imagined, and he completely forgets where they are and lets a low moan escape his mouth when Sirius tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth. Even though he will later deny it happened, Remus lifts his right foot up like some faint damsel in order to get closer to Sirius. James, who’s watching from around the corner, mocks him mercilessly for it.

When he breaks away from the kiss, Remus is out of breath. 

“Rather forward of you, Pads,” he whispers in Sirius’ neck.

“James told me how you felt. I made him talk to you the other night, dummy.”

Remus looks over at James, not quite believing how spectacularly he’s been played. Since the result is Sirius in his arms, he can’t really get upset over the elaborate ploy. He settles on pulling Sirius close again and kissing him some more, his mouth opening a little until their tongues brush and Godric that’s a good feeling, he wants more of it, and he opens his mouth a little more and pushes his tongue further out, tangles it with Sirius’ and now he knows why that cologne smelled so familiar because it’s what Padfoot is wearing right now. He feels the hard brick of the wall against his back and wonders when they moved but it doesn’t matter because Sirius is pulling him closer by his hips.

James clears his throat awkwardly, and Sirius pulls away a little. Remus chases after his mouth without thinking about it, but then all of a sudden reality comes back to him. They’re snogging just outside the Great Hall, where anyone, any teacher, could easily see. 

Sirius’ eyes are even brighter and happier than usual when he asks, “Shall we go to the Ball, Moony?”

Remus can’t help but kiss him again, just a little.

Remus isn’t one for dancing, but in Sirius’ arms, he feels like he could fly without any magic. It’s a brilliant feeling. They don’t stay in the crowded ballroom for long, though. When Sirius tugs at his hand, Remus allows himself to be pulled along, curious as to their destination. He runs with Sirius, out of the Castle, crossing the Courtyard. The air outside is cold and exhilarating, and Sirius shows no sign of slowing down, gorgeous dark hair blowing in the wind, running, running, and all the while holding Remus’ hands tightly in his own. They’re not wearing coats, but Remus doesn’t think he’s ever felt warm quite like this. It’s not just a sexual heat, it’s the warmth of love spreading out from his chest to his fingertips where it charges up as a spark in Sirius’ grasp. 

Sirius suddenly halts when they’re in the middle of the Viaduct. Remus bumps into him, unprepared for their sudden stop, and quickly finds himself pushed against the stone banister. There’s more kissing, but it’s different now. Sirius feels scorching hot under his hands and his mouth, contrasted with the sharp cold of the December wind, and, more importantly, the kiss is unrestrained. It deepens and continues on until the soft touches seem to go on endlessly, so good, it tastes so good, it feels so good that Remus wants to cry. He thinks of all the years before, all the time that he could have been kissing Sirius but wasn’t, and all the years ahead, when they can kiss and kiss and kiss, just like this, whenever they feel like it. The idea is so mind bogglingly wonderful that the elation makes him laugh out loud and he pulls away.

Sirius frowns. “Is something funny?”

“You’re mine,” Remus pants, and it’s spectacularly sappy and moving very fast but really, he’s been in a relationship with Sirius for years now, it’s only a matter of making it official. 

“You’re mine, Padfoot, you’re mine.” Another loud laugh. “You’re my boyfriend, and no one else ever gets to kiss you again.”

Now Sirius is laughing too, and they’re laughing and kissing and laughing and kissing and this has to be the best Christmas in the history of Christmases, because out of all the presents Sirius got him, his laughter is the best.


End file.
